Ring Pops and Ownership Papers
by The Black Sun's Daughter
Summary: It's been kind of a rough day, but all hope might not be lost.


It's kind of been a shite day.

And to think, Ezekiel had been planning to ask Jacob to marry him today.

That plan has gone straight to hell. They'd gotten a case in two parts, so Jacob and Ezekiel went to handle the one half, and Cassandra and Eve had gone to the other half. Naturally, their half involved the actual monster, so they've both been whipped to hell and back, it feels like, and Ezekiel very much wants to crawl into a hot bath and soak in there for the next few hours, preferably with his hopefully soon-to-be fiancé.

Jacob's sitting next to him, looking weary, dusty, and bloody. There's a cut on his forehead that's caked over with dirt, and his hair is sticking up in erratic clumps, at least in the places where it's not slicked down to his neck and forehead with sweat. Ezekiel doesn't look much better. They both look like they were pitched in a tumble dryer with a few hearty buckets of sand, gravel, and razorblades. It's why they're sitting on a wobbly bench behind the station instead of inside; they'd probably frighten the customers away.

Still, the historian looks incongruously at ease in his repose, his head leaning back against the wall, eyes closed. His hand rests on Ezekiel's knee, idly rubbing circles on a little patch of bare skin through a tear in the thief's trouser leg.

He has real, actual rings made and ready. They're sitting in a little velveteen case exactly where he left them: under the false bottom in the lowest drawer in his desk, back in the Annex. He hadn't carried them with him so they wouldn't get lost on the Adventure of the Day. But of course, true to fashion, the Back Door is broken down, apparently due to an imp getting loose from its containment in the Library, so it's not like he can just pop in his office right quick. All hope might not be lost just yet.

Ezekiel pats Jacob's wrist. "Back in two shakes, love."

"Mm, I'll be right here."

He gets up and walks around the corner and into the petrol station. He stands still for a moment, eyes closed in bliss as cool air washes over him. God bless central air. The clerk looks vaguely terrified, standing rigid behind the till and staring at him with wide eyes. Before he scares her into calling the cops or something, he walks to the coolers in the back and takes out a bottle of orange pop. The plastic is so cold it almost hurts, especially when he presses it to the sunburn on the back of his neck. Ezekiel snags a Ring Pop off the rack, and he salutes the clerk with it as he walks out the door without paying. She doesn't stop him and even manages a tiny wave in return.

The heat practically bitch-slaps him when he steps back outside, but he's used to it. New Mexico has nothing on Australia. He heads back around to the wobbly bench in their little strip of shade. Jacob hasn't moved a bit, but he startles nearly off the bench when Ezekiel touches the side of his neck with the bottle. "Jesus, Jonesy, don't do that," he mutters. He takes the bottle and twists off the cap, taking a drink and then making a face at the sweet taste. He isn't much of a pop drinker.

Ezekiel sits down next to him and fiddles with the cheap piece of candy in his hands.

The crinkling of plastic makes Jacob open his eyes again. "Sweet tooth getting to you?" he teases.

"Mm…not exactly." He slides off the bench and gets down to one knee on the hard, dusty ground. Figures he might as well do it the old-fashioned way. Jacob looks at him in puzzlement. "I had meant to wait and do this shite properly. Had it all planned out and everything, but with the way this fucking day is going, I might end up stricken down by Cthulhu or something before that. So, fuck it." He tears open the package with his teeth and holds out the bit of candy and plastic to Jacob, whose confused expression had given away to wide-eyed disbelief. "You up to signing my ownership papers?"

Jacob opens his mouth, makes no sound, closes it again, and then lets out a short, gleeful bark of laughter. "God, Jonesy!" He takes the Ring Pop and laughs again. The bit of plastic is meant for a child's finger, so he can't put it on. "Oh, God, yes. Yes. Come up here," he laughs, reaching down and grasping Ezekiel's collar, tugging him back up onto the bench to kiss him. "I love you, Jonesy."

"I love you, too."

Jacob looks at the candy ring again and giggles a little, then puts it in his mouth.

"I really do have rings," Ezekiel insists. "I got 'em made last month." The historian gives him a surprised, touched look. "Yeah, I was actually planning this, love. I just left 'em at the Annex so I didn't lose 'em out here. And since this has been a glass-half-empty sort of day…figured I'd get the hard part out of the way now."

Smiling, the cowboy takes the candy out of his mouth, hooks his fingers in Ezekiel's collar, and tugs him into another kiss. He tastes sweet, like the arteficial flavouring in the candy ring.

The door to the station's supply shed suddenly crackles with blue light, and they break apart, looking to the door.

"Guess I can go get your ring now," Ezekiel muses.

"What do you mean?" Jacob asks innocently. "I've got my ring right here." He sticks the candy back in his mouth and winks. "Let's go, Jonesy. I've got ownership papers to sign."


End file.
